


Preliminary Maneuvers

by youcouldmakealife



Series: Follow the North Star [31]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-24 20:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12019977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: “Liking dudes doesn’t mean I’m automatically attracted to all of them, Valeri,” Harry says. “You attracted to every girl?”“You attracted to Roman,” Val says.“Stop saying that!” Harry says.“Why?” Val asks. “Is true.”





	Preliminary Maneuvers

Something’s going on. Harry thinks, at first, that it’s just the echoes of Roman breaking up with Evan. Roman doesn’t take it back, and Harry wasn’t holding his breath after their conversation, such as it was, but he thought maybe Evan continuing to look all forlorn and painfully pretty might do what Harry’s dumb mouth couldn’t. Apparently not.

Victor and Val keep huddling up. That in itself isn’t weird. They’re both Evan’s roomies, and Harry wouldn’t be surprised if Val was asking for updates. He’s a soft touch, and he worries. Harry isn’t either of those things, but Evan brings it out in him too, so of course Val’s concerned. What is weird is that they clam up when Harry gets anywhere near them, and like, they may be Evan’s roomies, but Harry’s his _boyfriend_. 

“Are you and Victor talking about me?” Harry asks Val when they get to their room after it happens three times in the same freaking day. “Is that why you keep getting quiet whenever I come over?”

“No,” Val says, kind of like he’s telling the truth, but also like he’s not telling the whole truth, then, “Talking about Evan.”

“So, what?” Harry says. “Evan’s none of my business?” 

“Not say that,” Val says, frowning now. “Just—”

He’s fiddling with his hands. Harry doesn’t like it.

“You’re acting suspicious,” Harry says.

“ _You’re_ acting suspicious,” Val responds quickly.

“What?” Harry says. “No I’m not.”

“Yes you are,” Val retorts.

“No I’m — why do you always do this?” Harry complains. 

“Fun,” Val says. Asshole.

It’s only Val he gets into this stupid circular conversations with. Well, and his siblings, he guesses, but something about coming home for the summer makes him and Sam regress into being kids again. Last summer Sam _literally stole his toys_ like the asshole big brother he’s never stopped being. Well, Harry’s soccer ball. Harry shudders to think of Sam stealing his actual, um. Toys. Not that he’d bring them home. 

“What were we talking about?” Harry asks.

Val shrugs innocently. Too innocently.

Harry narrows his eyes at him.

*

They win, they go out. That tends to be the way things work. It isn’t everyone, which also the way things work, with rare exceptions — a lot of the older dudes might do a one and done or go Skype their wives instead or whatever. This time, though, Evan’s noticeably missing, as is Roman. A week ago that would have made something twist in Harry’s stomach, ugly, but tonight he notices Victor missing too, figures Evan’s just staying in. He hasn’t been particularly social lately. Val cuts out early, and Harry thinks that might have something to do with the pretty brunette he was talking to, crosses his fingers she’s got a place nearby.

Two more days and they’re home again. Harry doesn’t know if that’ll fix anything, but he hopes so, that Evan not needing to see Roman outside of pregame or practice might make things easier on him, make it easier for him to get over it. Not that Harry wants him to rush it or anything, he just. He doesn’t like seeing Evan sad.

And more selfishly, things are weird with Evan. Like kind of uncomfortable between the two of them. It’s like by ending shit Roman put himself right in between them, became an invisible presence dividing them. Fucking figures. But it’s temporary, Harry thinks, or hopes, the same as he hopes getting home will fix things. 

He’s been trying to Evan him some extra room, see if it helps, but Val takes that choice out of his hands when he gets back to his room to find a ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door, unmistakable. He guesses she didn’t live close by. Harry could go back to the bar, or hang in the lobby, he guesses, they have a bar down there that’s still open, but he goes to Evan and Victor’s room instead.

“I got sexiled,” he says when Victor opens the door, and Victor snorts and lets him come in. They’re halfway through one of the more forgettable Marvel movies, one Harry saw, years back, but doesn’t remember much of. He sits on Evan’s bed, with literal distance between them, a foot or more, him over the covers and Evan under. He knows Evan wouldn’t be comfortable with anything closer while Victor’s a bed away, isn’t sure he’d be comfortable with closer even if Victor wasn’t there.

He hates this. 

“He’s like this with everyone right now,” Victor says quietly, when he walks him out. Evan fell asleep close to the end, and when Harry brushed his hair back a bit before he got up, unable to help himself, Victor pretended not to notice, which Harry’s reluctantly grateful for. 

“Like what?” Harry asks, and Victor just shrugs.

“You know,” he says, and Harry does. “It’s not just you, is all I’m saying.”

“Okay,” Harry says, then, “Thanks,” and Victor shrugs again, like dismissal.

The sign’s off when Harry gets back, thankfully. “You could have texted me the all clear,” Harry complains to Val, who’s already in bed — or, still in bed, Harry guesses — flipping through channels.

“Wanted to give you and Evan boyfriend time,” Val says, all magnanimous like he didn’t kick Harry out of his own room to get laid. 

“Boyfriend time with Victor, thanks,” Harry says. “So romantic with a third wheel.”

“Not the third wheel you want,” Val says agreeably.

“What, you think you’re a better third wheel?” Harry asks. He probably would be, because Harry and Victor kind of get along, maybe, but Val and Evan are two of Harry’s favorite people. Can’t let that get to Val’s head, though.

“Not talking about me,” Val says.

“Beau?” Harry says. Beau’s not a third wheel. Hell, sometimes when Evan’s giving him love _Harry_ feels like the third wheel, but not like, in a bad way, more like his chest’s too full. The way to Harry’s heart is apparently through his puppy, his puppy who adores Evan. Like father like dog.

Val rolls his eyes like Harry’s being stupid.

“Okay, clearly I don’t know what you mean,” Harry says.

“Roman,” Val says, in this tone like ‘obviously’, even though it’s the absolute fucking opposite.

“The fuck, Val?” Harry asks.

“You talk like you want to fuck Roman too,” Val says. “Oh, Roman’s so big and handsome, Roman’s so—”

“No I don’t!” Harry says.

Val covers his ears. That…was admittedly at a volume and pitch Harry is not proud of. Harry hopes no one next door was asleep.

“What the fuck, dude,” Harry hisses when Val’s uncovered his ears. “I have a boyfriend. Who is your _roommate_ , asshole.”

“Does not mean you cannot look,” Val says.

“I’m not looking!” Harry protests. “And I’m sure as hell not looking at _Roman_.” 

“Okay,” Val says, in this voice like he doesn’t believe Harry at all. “Not considering.”

Considering is _beyond_ looking. “You think I’d cheat on Evan? Seriously, Val?” Harry asks. 

“Threesome not cheating,” Val says. “Threesome just fun.”

Harry snorts. “Like you know anything about it.”

Val raises his eyebrows.

“Seriously?” Harry asks. “When?”

Val shrugs.

“And you didn’t tell me?” Harry asks.

“Want me to tell?” Val asks. “They were both—”

Harry covers his ears. It’s weird knowing about Val’s sex life, like if Annie or Sam or Deb told him about their sex lives. Apparently he accidentally adopted Val into the family at some point. Seeing the ‘do not disturb’ sign and knowing Val’s getting laid on the other side of the door is bad enough, Harry doesn’t want to _hear_ about it.

“Is what I thought,” Val says, muffled but distinctly smug.

“That was just casual though, right?” Harry asks, putting his hands down. “Not like, oh, a fucking _teammate_.”

“I was dating one,” Val says, and now Harry’s brain is flipping through his memories of Val’s exes completely without his permission.

“Bet she wasn’t dating the other girl,” Harry mutters.

Val shrugs. “Maybe not,” he says. “But you already dating a boy with another boyfriend. Or. Was boyfriend. So why not? More to share.”

“Liking dudes doesn’t mean I’m automatically attracted to all of them, Valeri,” Harry says. “You attracted to every girl?”

“You attracted to Roman,” Val says.

“Stop saying that!” Harry says.

“Why?” Val asks. “Is true.”

“It’s not true,” Harry says. “And I’m not talking about this with you.”

“Okay,” Val says, and when Harry’s getting his pajamas out of his suitcase, “Is true though.”

Harry throws a pair of jeans right at his head, but Val unfortunately catches them.

Harry was worried Val would start it up again once he’s in the opposite bed, but he’s quiet, then, after like maybe five minutes max, peacefully sleeping. Fucker. Says all that shit and riles Harry up and then just goes to sleep like it’s easy.

Harry’s not — Harry’s noticed shit about Roman’s appearance, but that’s like — scoping out the competition isn’t being attracted to them, it’s knowing what you’re up against. No one’s telling staff who watch other teams to find out their strengths and weaknesses that they’re traitors and they must be cheering for the opposition or something. 

Noticing someone’s attractive doesn’t mean you’re attracted to them. And Roman _isn’t_ even attractive. He’s got some good features, Harry guesses, but mostly he looks like as big a fucking thug as he is on the ice, a scar cutting across his bushy eyebrow from something, probably a fight, another under his chin that leaves a bare spot when he’s got stubble. His nose is big, was probably ugly even before it got broken, which it definitely has been, because it’s a little crooked now. Honestly, everything about him is as giant as he is, height aside — though he has a few inches on Harry — thick, and some of that might be a pro, like his mouth, which is the kind of shit you usually only see on those people who get lip jobs or whatever the fuck they’re called, an ass that’s big even for a hockey player, so basically giant. It’s good if you like that kind of thing, whatever. Harry doesn’t. Or like, maybe, but not Roman’s or whatever.

Harry can’t sleep now. He punches his pillow into a more comfortable shape, not even bothering to be quiet, but Val just sleeps on.

“I hate you,” Harry hisses across the space between their beds, then pulls the covers over his head.

*

Coach cancels practice the next morning, says they’re doing well enough that he’d prefer they just take a rest day. Usually Harry would appreciate it, maybe wander around town with Val or catch a movie or something, but he doesn’t particularly want to spend time with Val right now, and things with Evan are still fragile feeling enough he doesn’t want to do anything unless Evan explicitly invites him.

He goes back to bed after breakfast instead, waking up to a knock on the door and, indirectly, exactly what he wanted, though, typically, it’s a double-edged sword.

“Evan wants to see you,” Victor says, without even a hello first.

“And he isn’t telling me that himself because…” Harry says.

Victor’s mouth twists like he’s tasted something sour. “He’s not leaving our room, so.”

“Is he okay?” Harry asks.

Victor shrugs a little, mouth still twisted up.

“Fuck, okay, just let me grab my—” Harry says.

“It seemed like kind of a big deal,” Victor says, and fuck it, Val’s got the other key, and Evan’s more important than getting his shit.

“Did he say anything about what it was—” Harry starts as he follows Victor down the hallway, cuts himself off when Victor shrugs a little violently. He’s more high strung than Harry’s seen him in awhile, which makes Harry worry.

“Is it something with — is he freaking out?” Harry asks. Harry straight up would not be handling it well if Evan broke up with him and then they spent a week on the road together. Evan takes everything hard: demotions, shuffles, losses, even wins if he doesn’t think he played well. Harry would understand him freaking out about this, like, in a different way than the quiet and sad thing he’s had going, even if Harry probably isn’t the best person to deal with it, unless Evan wants someone to call Roman a fucking asshole a lot, in which case Harry is 100% his man.

Harry thinks Victor flinches. “I don’t think so,” he says, finally, sounding weird. Victor’s pretty weird, though. Harry’s mostly stopped noticing it.

Victor glances around the hall, paranoid looking, then puts his ear against the door Evan’s presumably behind, which is extra weird. Weird heaping on weird at that point. He swipes his card through. “I just want you to know I’m not enjoying any of this, and it’s all Fitzgerald’s fault,” Victor says, and Harry has half a second to wonder what the hell that means, and why pennies are falling at his feet, before he’s shoving Harry into the room to stare, blankly, at Roman and Evan on the farthest bed. Evan’s mouth is very red. Harry knows exactly how much it takes to get it that red. Roman’s mouth is wet, lush looking. Harry has no idea why the fuck he’s noticing that. Actually he does: Valeri Asenov is a terrible person.

“Oh good,” Roman says flatly. “They kidnapped you too.”

“Um,” Evan says. “This isn’t—”

“What it looks like?” Harry asks, and doesn’t like Evan’s laugh for once, nervous sounding, forced. Harry literally fucking _told_ Roman to fix shit with Evan, he does not get to be — whatever he is right now. This is exactly what he asked for. Hell, he practically begged Roman on his knees.

He’s a fucking idiot.

“I’m gonna go,” Harry manages. “Let you two figure out…whatever.”

“Good luck with that,” Roman says, and Harry doesn’t understand that either until he tries the door handle and finds it doesn’t move an inch under his hand.

“What the fuck,” Harry says.

“Work it out!” someone yells. It sounds like Fitzy.

“Do you have your phone?” Roman asks.

“No,” Harry says. “Victor kind of —”

“Stole it?” Roman asks.

“What?” Harry asks. “No?”

“Progress, I guess,” Roman says, almost too low for Harry to catch.

“What?” Harry repeats, then “Wait, did he steal yours?”

“Yep,” Roman says, and Evan, who’s moved from bed to desk, nods a little.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Harry asks.

“Short version?” Roman says. “We’ve been stuck in here for awhile.”

“How?” Harry says. “The doors open _inwards _.”__

__“Still not sure how Victor fucked with that,” Roman says. “But you tried the door. It work?”_ _

__“No,” Harry says. “But just call the front—”_ _

__“Remember how we have no phones?” Roman asks._ _

__“So?” Harry says, then moves toward the bedside table between Evan and Victor’s beds. The place a phone would be is conspicuously empty._ _

__“Thorough,” Roman remarks, like Harry wasn’t fucking getting that._ _

__“So you just made out to pass the time?” Harry asks. He enjoys it, for a moment, making Roman look flustered, then immediately regrets it when he sees Evan going hunched and small again. “Not that it’s any of my business,” Harry mumbles, too late, and no one looks relieved by that addition._ _

__“I blame you for this,” Harry says to Roman, when silence stretches to unbearable. “Putting stupid ideas in everyone’s heads with the Rookie Detectives bullshit.”_ _

__“Harry,” Evan says, pretty much the first thing he’s said since Harry got locked in, and Harry drags his eyes away from Roman, looks at him, flushed and mussed and so pretty, like he always is, gets the same kind of wrench in his stomach as he does every time, but with an added edge of bitterness that it wasn’t him that made Evan look that way._ _

__“Sorry,” Harry mumbles, more to Evan than Roman._ _

__“Nah,” Roman says. “That’s probably fair.”_ _

__“So,” Harry says, after yet another interminable silence. “This is fucking awkward, huh?”_ _

__For once, Roman’s laugh is just as uncomfortable as Evan’s._ _

__Harry doesn’t like that laugh either._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Worry not, next part is Roman POV and will be going back in time.


End file.
